Corpus Christi

Thursday was Corpus Christi, the feast of Thanksgiving for the Institution of the Eucharist. I have never made much of it at Swanvale Halt, mainly because it always falls on a Thursday and Thursday is my accustomed day off. I used to attend Evensong & Benediction at the Cathedral on the succeeding Sunday, but in recent years other commitments have made it impossible for me to do even that. This year, I've been rearranging so many days off that I decided one more wouldn't make any difference, so I offered Evensong & Benediction on Thursday, an offer taken up by the grand total of two of our most devout parishioners, both retired teachers, oddly enough. We sang the canticles, responses and the Office Hymn Pange Lingua and did I thought rather well for such an intimate gathering. 'I don't think I've sung plainsong since I was 10', said Emma.

I was glad of the opportunity to keep the day not just because of the principle of the thing, but also because when I last went to see S.D. I complained of feeling a sense of lukewarmness and routine about my relationship with God, feeling rather that I had, in the words of Revelation, 'fallen from the love I had at the first' (which to a certain extent is inevitable, of course). The last few days have turned that around completely with a certain degree of emotional dislocation focused on my sense of connection with somebody who is very important to me but who I have never met and probably never will, and yet who weaves in and out of many of my experiences and enthusiasms. I've been reminded how I am nevertheless linked to that person by the sacramental presence of Christ - and not just to them, but, by God's grace, to everyone I have loved and love now, including those I have hurt and disappointed in different ways. I've found myself thoroughly weepy and emotional, and if I was suffering from lukewarmness, I'm not now. And that's a good thing. 

Ave verum corpus ...